Second Chances
by Dwnmaek
Summary: Mathias is just like any normal teenage boy. He has a (somewhat) happy family, great friends, and is (somehow) in a happy relationship with his best friend. The theories and myths of reincarnation don't concern him in the slightest. His re-occurring dreams obviously have a logical explanation. They're simply coincidences. [First few chapters are re-written]
1. Chapter 1

**December 4, 1676, Battle of Lund**

It's hard not to think about death when it's all around you; when the only sounds are the cries of men, gunshots and distressed horses. The comrades you knew by name sprawled out across the mud and stones, their lifeblood pooling around them like oil.

Mathias was numb with fear as he looked down at the shell of his former friend. The man who had shared jokes and a pint with him only the night before, lay cold and stiff with an agonized expression etched into his thin face. It certainly hadn't been the first time that the Dane had witnessed someone's death, but even so, it shocked him to his core.

There were things that people never described in their stories of battle and glory. The anguished cries of the innocent filled the thick air and they never ceased. Once one of them died out, there were always several more to take its place. The opaque smoke from the artillery clogged his throat and nose, and yet it did nothing to disguise the telltale smell of blood. That bitter, metallic, musty scent that never failed to provoke weak stomachs.

Mathias could hardly prevent the burning bile from retching itself from his throat. Abel was lost, and that was that. Just another casualty in the war. The Dane staggered to his feet, gripping his musket with white, bruised knuckles. The battles field was ridden with both Swedes and Danes, both sides locked in combat. He took a deep breath of the crisp air before readying his firearm.

He held it up to eye level, peering down the barrel to the bayonet at the tip. Selecting a target, a soldier in the Swedish uniform, he pulled his trigger. Sure enough, when the cloud had dissipated, the man lay dead. Mathias didn't flinch. If this was the only way to survive, then he was damn well going to do his best.

Quickly going to work on reloading, he prayed silently that he had the time. Finally, it was ready again. Lifting it once again, he repeated. More men fell . Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. His arms ached from holding the weapon, but never once did they waver. Each time, the small lead bullet found its mark.

Even so, the Swedes never faltered. The Danes outnumbered them, and yet the advantage seemed to do nothing. Mathias gazed over his gun at the fighting, picking out one of the enemies once again. However, this time he hesitated. Something didn't feel right. Not quite lowering his weapon, he surveyed the area for the cause of his uneasiness. His stomach jumped into his throat when he caught someone just a few meters away, aiming their musket straight at him.

Fumbling with panic he aimed his own gun at the opponent with as much accuracy as the situation allowed.

Two shots rang out to join the dozens of others. A powerful punch in the chest sent him reeling backwards, toppling to the ground as the air was knocked straight out of him. A sharp pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before consumed his consciousness. At first, his thoughts were pure confusion and panic. Surely there hadn't been someone else there. So what had gotten him? Why was it taking so long for the air to flood his lungs again? And where was that godforsaken pain coming from?

His breath only came in short, choppy gasps. Some sort of warm liquid rushed over his chest, staining his skin and uniform in a deep red. It felt like his lungs were full of fluid. Fluid that made its way up his throat, trickling slowly from the corners of his mouth.

It was impossible to find relief. No matter which way he laid or writhed or curled up, it did naught. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the Swede which had threatened him. He was limp on the ground, blood seeping steadily from his blonde head.

Mathias clenched his teeth, desperate to make it through the unbearable pain. It was only then that he saw through his own denial. He had been shot. The truth hit him nearly as hard as the bullet. He would be one of the lifeless figures to step over. One of the unfortunate bastards left to be identified as he decomposed.

He gazed at the sky through blurred eyes. It was an emotionless grey, plain and dark. Mathias hacked up more red fluid as he writhed. He had obviously considered what would happen after death, seeing as it had always been a possibility. The young man had been brought up to believe in heaven and hell, and he couldn't help but wonder with grim curiosity where he would end up.

His mind wandered to the Old Norse myths that he had read about as a child. Valhalla. The Hall of the Slain. That's where the honoured dead would go. The heroes who died in battle with a weapon in their hand. Mathias tilted his head to the side, looking for the gun which had been discarded as he fell. It lay only a few meters away, resting undisturbed in the mud. His hopes sank. There was almost no possibility of making it that far in his fragile condition.

Mustering the frail bit of strength that still remained, he pushed himself onto his side. His chest roared in protest, triggering what would have been an agonized cry if he had the breath. Tears ran freely down his face, leaving pale streaks in the smoot and dirt. Mathias rolled over once more, this time onto his stomach, causing a fresh wave of pain. Dark spots swam in and out of his vision and he could feel his head growing lighter by the second.

He reached out a trembling arm, hardly able to keep it above the dirt. The artillery was hardly audible at this point. Echoes of cannon fire and guns alike seemed distant and muffled. Once a strong and confident man, he was reduced to this. Mathias let his arm fall in exhaustion and rested his head on the tough ground. It was still too far away. He would have to rely on his faith. Or perhaps he would be resurrected someday. His shallow breathing was almost non-existent. Dirt clung to the wet blood on his lips, but he could care less.

Mathias' chest was all but numb now, only feeling a dull throbbing that seemed to be slowing down by the second. Half lidded eyes drifted around at the other bodies, lingering on Abel's. He felt more tired than he ever had before.

If he closed his eyes, he might be able to see his home again. That nice little townhouse in Copenhagen that he shared with his family for the majority of his life. Maybe he could see his little brothers again. Perhaps he'd be able to smell the sweet aroma of pastries that his mother was known for. Or even his father, sat in his special chair by the window, wearing his round glasses and balancing a book of some sort in his lap.

Never had Mathias been so tempted to close his eyes, but he knew what else was almost definite if he did. Despite his internal panic, he felt almost unnaturally calm. His ears rang and his eyes refused to focus and register his surroundings.

He waited patiently for what was to come next. There was no warm, heavenly light to approach. No ancestors came to help him to his feet and guide him on. No reaper, ready to take his very soul. Mathias felt his muscles fall limp, completely useless. All he could do was surrender as he felt himself lose consciousness for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

Mathias jolted awake, suddenly thrown back into reality. Sweat soiled several parts of his t-shirt and covered his face in a sheen. The only light in the room was the filtered sunlight from behind dark curtains and the blinking red numbers on his alarm clock, displaying that it was nearly midmorning.

He laid a hand on his chest, sighing in relief once he realized that it was fully intact. His breath came normally, albeit a bit shaky and deep. This was at least the third time he'd had this particular nightmare.

Everyone had the occasional bad dream. That was normal. But for it to be that vivid and immersive was unusual. Pushing the thoughts of the dream aside, he slid out of bed and grabbed a random combination of clothes from the dresser across the room.

He trudged down the carpeted stairs in socked feet, making his way to the only bathroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his brother headed in the same direction. Suddenly fully awake, he jumped into action. Only making brief eye-contact with him, Mathias ran to the door and attempted to slam it closed behind himself. However, a foot wedged itself in the threshold, triggering a short hiss of pain followed by a swear.

"Move your foot, I got here first!" Mathias all but yelled, trying to kick the limb out of the way.

"Oh, shut up. You got the bathroom first yesterday and you take forever." Berwald grunted in complaint, trying to pry the door open. Of course, this petty debate was common between the two.

"Exactly! I take longer, so I should go first all the time! It's just logic."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"You make no sense." Finally, he shoved the elder boy back into the hall and locked the door behind him. Mathias could hear Berwald stumble and try the handle frantically, only to realize that he had lost his chance yet again.

Smirking at his achievement, Mathias set about his normal routine. He peeled off his sweat-soaked pajamas, carelessly dropping them in the hamper before exchanging them for his new clothes. Now came the real work.

Almost twenty minutes later, he still stood in front of the mirror, concentrating on positioning his hair. He stared at his reflection, brushing his hair over and back and picking up the straightener. An annoyed knock on the door startled him enough to nearly drop it.

"Are you done ye-"

"No! I'm working!" He rolled his blue eyes as Berwald slumped in defeat onto the wall. It was a wonder that he even tried anymore. Mathias always came out on top, even on stupid things like this. He continued with the task at hand.

His freckles were spread generously over his nose and cheeks, standing stark against his skin in the way they usually did during the summer, due to his constant presence outside.

Nearly ten minutes later, he deemed it perfect. Mathias finished up his normal bathroom routine and opened the door, knocking the other boy out of balance. Berwald gave an agitated huff before entering, making sure to scowl fittingly at his adoptive brother. Mathias, of course, pretended not to notice as he passed him, wearing his stunningly confident grin.

They weren't blood brothers, yet it was easy to forget. After all, they had spent most of their childhood together. It definitely helped that they looked fairly similar, sharing the same blonde hair and Nordic facial features.

Mathias wandered into the kitchen and saw his mother sitting at the circular table, sipping her morning tea and occasionally taking a bite from a piece of toast as she hurried to finish. His father had no doubt already left for work. She glanced up at her son for a moment and smiled in greeting. Their mother was a homely lady, almost always smiling: a trait that Mathias had picked up. Despite her easy demeanor, she held herself with pride, demanding respect. She was easy-going, but it was seldom that anyone would cross her.

He strode over to the cabinets and opened them, grabbing a bagel from the packaging and loading it into the toaster. He leant on the counter, watching the appliance with vague interest.

For the millionth time in the last month, he thanked God that it was summer vacation. Life was so much easier when you didn't have anywhere to be, didn't have to worry about maintaining grades, and didn't have that neverending feeling of obligation.

The bagel popped just as Berwald entered, looking irritated and mildly terrifying like normal. Mathias hardly regarded him, focused on now buttering his breakfast.

"I'm going to kill you someday." He grumbled as he went about his own business, which earned a snort from Mathias.

"You can try." He retorted sarcastically. Their mother looked at them with a light disapproving glare.

"Not this early in the morning. Don't even start." She warned. Berwald mumbled a quick meaningless apology, glaring through his thick glasses at Mathias. The boy in question mimed an offended expression.

"That didn't sound very genuine. Maybe you should try it again, Ber." The taller of the two elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He took it in stride, ignoring it aside from an exaggerated grunt. He felt a dull vibration from his phone. Mathias shoved his bagel between his teeth, freeing his hands to pull his smartphone from his pocket. A notification flashed across the home screen: a reminder.

'Hanging out with Svana 11:00'. Shit.

Mathias and Svana had been dating for the best part of a year, after being best friends since middle school. Svana was a Norwegian emigrant and was unfamiliar with English. It didn't quite help matters that she was naturally reclusive and hardly spoke a word. She mostly kept to himself, aside from her "imaginary friend". This odd behavior made others believe that she was the perfect target to pick on.

The petty bullying had little to no effect, but Mathias felt that he _must_ intervene. It wasn't right. After a full month of telling them off, they finally started to leave the young Norwegian alone. It's debatable whether or not Mathias had an effect or they had just grown wary of Svana. The latter wouldn't be surprising, considering that she only read books about dark magic and spoke mainly in a strange foreign language. There were even rumors that she was caught attempting some sort of curse on school grounds. Her reputation went straight from 'Weird New Kid' to 'Possibly Sociopathic Satanist'.

Mathias, with his overinflated ego, assumed that he was responsible for the improvement. He immediately declared himself Svana's best friend. It took forever, but she finally seemed to warm up to the over excitable boy. They grew so close over the next few years that it was hard to imagine life without the other.

"Sorry to break up our happy little breakfast, but I've gotta get going." He said, placing his phone back into his pocket and wrapping his meal in a paper towel. Mathias was halfway out the door when he was interrupted by a cough from his mother.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She inquired with that tone that meant she knew she was correct. Mathias frowned, thinking back.

"Uh…I don't think so. Am I? Mom, I can't waste time guessing. I've got places to be." She sighed, setting her mug down.

"I swear, one day you're going to get into some serious left your inhaler in the living room yesterday." As the realization dawned on him, he sighed, pivoting on his heel and running down the hall to retrieve it from the end table, casually ignoring his mother's voice calling for him to slow down.

With his inhaler shoved into his jeans' pocket, he gave a mock salute in thanks to his mother on his way out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Svana only lived a few blocks away, thankfully. It made their constant visits much easier, especially since Mathias had failed his driver's test. He preferred his bike anyways. It only took around ten minutes of easy pedaling for her house to come into view. It was a nice two story home with gray siding and dark shutters. The lawn was well-trimmed and green, giving the house a tidy and clean atmosphere.

Mathias strode up to her door and pressed the doorbell. It echoed for inside for a moment before he heard little footsteps running down the hall inside, followed by the sound of the lock turning. The door cracked open to reveal a little boy, barely six years old. He had pale blond hair that hung just above his eyes and wide blue eyes.

Mathias folded his arms, looking down at the boy with a sternest expression he could muster.

"Are you allowed to answer the door?" The little boy shook his head, ashamed. Mathias sighed, letting his arms fall back to his sides.

"Alright, well don't do it again." He smiled. "Now where's my hug?" The boy giggled and leaped forward, embracing Mathias around his middle.

"Emil!" Came a voice from inside the house. "What did I tell you about opening the door?" Svana appeared at the end of the hallway, hurrying towards the two of them. Upon seeing Mathias, she visibly relaxed. She pushed her long blonde hair behind her ear, still annoyed with her younger brother. "You're lucky it was just Mathias." She turned her attention back to her overly-happy boyfriend.

"And I wish that you would have called or texted ahead, so that I would know when you were getting here." He shrugged in response.

"I like to be unpredictable."

"Is that what you call it?"

Mathias laughed, ruffling Emil's hair as he pulled away.

"God, everyone is roasting me today. Gimme a break, will you?" Svana's normally stoic disposition faltered, letting a small smile break through.

"Maybe they wouldn't roast you if you weren't such a dumbass." She quipped, turning on her heel and leading them back inside. Emil scampered upstairs to continue whatever he had been doing prior.

The Bondeviks' house was unnaturally clean, seemingly making it colder than it really was. Mathias could hear the humming the air conditioners from where he stood. Svana led him upstairs and into her bedroom, where she was folding clothes. Mathias plopped down on her bed, knocking over a stack of shirts. She gave him an irritated glance.

"So do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Berwald invited his friend over and I don't want to be caught in all that awkward sexual tension alone." He explained, hoping that he wouldn't have to beg her.

"Can't." She said simply. "My parents will be out and I have to watch Emil."

"He can come too!"

"I promised that we'd be staying home." Svana added miserably. "As much as I'd love to witness your awkward family dinner, I don't want to be grounded."

Mathias groaned, flopping back onto a pile of shorts in defeat.

"Fine. I can't believe you care so little for my sanity." Svana chuckled, shaking her head.

Mathias arrived home around five that afternoon, not a care in the world. Berwald was slouching on the couch next to his 'friend' Tino. Tino was rambling about anything and everything, while Berwald listened in silence, aside from the occasional grunt of agreement. God, he had no social skills.

Mathias headed straight towards them, sitting down in the large space between them. Tino cut off abruptly and Berwald sat up straighter.

"Am I interrupting something?" Mathias spoke up after a moment of offended silence. Berwald sighed, glaring at him.

"Can you stop being a jackass for a few hours?"

"I can't deny my true nature."

"Mathias, leave your poor brother alone, will you?" Their father called as he exited the kitchen. "You're making Tito uncomfortable."

Tino coughed, forcing a kind smile.

"It's Tino, sir. With an N." The man nodded, seemingly confused.

"Right, that's what I said. C'mon, Mat. Your mom wants you to help out with dinner anyways."

Mathias exaggerated a groan, as if getting up required too much energy. He hoisted himself to his feet and headed back into the kitchen, pausing to turn back to the two on the sofa.

"Don't get into too much trouble, you guys. These walls are thin." Mathias was out of the room before anyone could protest the statement.

The evening passed rather quickly for him, although it might have lasted a lifetime for everyone else. The hour was filled with teasing and innuendos, followed by parental scolding. Mathias was surprised no one had excused themselves early.

Afterwards, Tino and Berwald said their goodbyes (which took quite a while). Before Mathias had the chance to say anything, Berwald had shoved past him to go upstairs. He looked to his parents for an explanation, but he was met with pitiless expressions. A few seconds passed before his father said anything.

"Maybe you shouldn't have been a dick."

His mother looked horrified and smacked his arm, which was countered by an uncaring shrug.

Mathias sighed and followed his brother upstairs. Berwald's door was left partially open, allowing a thin stream of yellow light to spill into the hallway. Hesitantly, he pushed it open and leaned against the threshold.

"Are you going to be pissy for the rest of the week now, or what?" He asked Berwald, who sat at his desk with his head in his hands. No response. "You know I'm just teasing you guys, right?" The other boy lifted his head, looking at him blankly.

"I'd prefer if you didn't." Ber turned around in his chair, facing him fully.

"Yeah, well it's what I do. You aren't gonna make me apologize or anything, are you?"

"We both know that wouldn't happen." He pursed his lips in thought. "Can I ask a serious question though?"

Before Mathias had the chance to reply sarcastically, he received a sharp glare.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

"Would you care if I was...gay?"

He paused for a moment, realizing that he would have to give a serious, genuine answer.

"To be honest, I don't care what your preference is. As long as it's not dogs, you're fine with me." The tension that Mathias didn't notice before lessened, and Berwald seemed to relax a bit.

"Just...don't tell mom or dad, alright? I don't want them getting upset." He replied quietly.

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

Despite their countless differences and fights, the two teenagers weren't unfamiliar with moments like this. Moments where Mathias was genuine and Berwald let his guard down. Although they would never admit it to anyone, they enjoyed them.

"I feel like we should hug." Mathias said decidedly.

"Definitely not. I'm serious-" But of course it was too late. The other boy had already wrapped his arms around his unwilling brother, who sat stiffer than a board. "I hate you."

"You love me."

When Mathias woke up, it took him a while to realize he wasn't in the midst of a bloody battle. Everything was pitch black. The only thing he could feel was soft carpeting under his feet and the fast pumping of his heart. He couldn't have been in his bedroom; the room was always lit from the orange streetlights outside. Not to mention that he was standing.

His eyes began to adjust and he took a step back. He had been standing mere inches from a pale, smooth surface. As it came into focus, he recognized it as Berwald's door. An eerie feeling crept up his spine, leaving him thoroughly confused. The hallway was silent: something that Mathias was uncomfortable with.

Usually the air conditioners would be blasting behind doors, or the cicadas would be humming from outside. Hell, it wouldn't be unusual to hear the floorboards creaking. None of it was present. Mathias slowly walked back to his room, closing his door firmly behind him and locking it.

He had never experienced sleepwalking, and the re-occurring nightmare didn't comfort him either. The digital clock on his night stand displayed that it was almost a quarter of three in the morning. Mathias shook his head and laid back in bed, ignoring the sheets. He felt abnormally cold, but the slick sweat made him feel clammy.

Tossing and turning, he kept an eye on the clock as he tried to fall back to sleep. Once it hit five in the morning, he declared it a lost cause. Mathias pulled his phone off its charging cord, blearily searching for information on sleep walking.

* * *

 **A/N- Can I say that I am just really sorry for making 3/4 of this chapter filler and exposition? It killed me.**


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